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Latveria International Airport
Doomstadt, Latveria
October 30, 2024
Gorzenko stood with the sun at his back, watching as a Gulfstream G700 glided to a stop on the air strip. Three men emerged and made their way across the tarmac in the crisp autumn air.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Husk,” he said with a diplomatic bow of his head. “I am Jakob Gorzenko, and I will be your liaison for the duration of your visit.”
Husk acknowledged him coolly and nodded to his bodyguards, and they followed Gorzenko into an autonomous hover shuttle. He studied Husk as they made the trek through Doomstadt to the castle. Despite the idyllic view of the Latverian countryside and impeccably kept city sweeping past them, Husk’s attention seemed to be fixed upon the workings of the shuttle itself; he ran his fingers across its sleek interior and quietly scrutinized the control panels, his face betraying little more than passive interest. Gorzenko doubted that Husk even understood what he was looking at. As they docked at the entrance of the castle compound, he gestured to a checkpoint flanked by a pair of eight-foot-tall droids.
“All weapons and devices must remain here,” he said, glancing politely at Husk, who nodded and directed his bodyguards to hand over their phones and disarm. After a long moment of pointed silence from Gorzenko, Husk finally added his own cell phone to the lock box.
They crossed a sunlit courtyard and continued to a reception hall and into an elegantly furnished study on an upper floor. Husk put away his sunglasses and strolled the length of the room, hands folded behind his back, studying the art and antiques with detached appreciation.
“Please, feel free to avail yourself of any refreshments,” Gorzenko said cordially, gesturing to a lavish spread across one of the heavy tables. Husk nodded, turning his attention to the droid setting a water pitcher down beside a platter of fruit. He watched as Gorzenko thanked it with a bow of his head and sent it on its way.
“Why the formality?” Husk asked nonchalantly. “They’re just robots.”
“Habitual politeness, I suppose.” Gorzenko shrugged, and gestured to a trio of tall windows on the eastern wall. “Please, take in the view. Make yourself comfortable. I shall return soon with your host, so that you may conduct your very important business.”
Husk nodded benevolently. “Thank you.”
Gorzenko disappeared into the corridor, closing the study door behind him. Husk traded glances with his bodyguards and poked around at the offerings on the table. He didn't find any glasses, only crystal gauntlets, so he filled one with water and sat down in one of the sturdy antique chairs.
Meanwhile, in the Central Surveillance Tower.
Valeria stretched and checked her watch. While it was true that the wi-fi was fastest up in the tower, she was there mostly because she enjoyed watching the wall of CCTV screens—one never knew what interesting things might transpire out in the city, or even within the castle itself. Learning the surveillance system had been easy enough—it was reaching most of the buttons that was a pain in the neck. She may have been tall for her age, but at only nine years old, even that gave her little advantage. She poured herself some water from the pitcher into one of Uncle Victor’s absurdly large goblets and raised it to toast no one in particular before taking a drink.
It wasn’t every day that Uncle Victor had visitors from America. Tech billionaire Leon Husk would be flying in on his personal jet to have “critical talks”, or so he had declared on Tweetr for some reason. She had always assumed that spies were secretive, but apparently modern international espionage was to be conducted in full view of four million followers so that it could trend at number 2, right behind #DaddyVonDoom. She rolled her eyes at the discourse casting her uncle as some sort of fairytale misanthrope sulking all alone in a gloomy castle.
Grownups were so weird.
She leaned in closer and watched as Gorzenko entered the compound, accompanied by his own security escort and three other men. As they passed from one screen to another on their way to the eastern study, she recognized one of them as Husk, which explained why Gorzenko's expression flickered between welcoming and annoyed depending upon whether it was aimed at their guest. She watched Husk pour himself a drink before awkwardly taking a seat. Suddenly he reached under the table and appeared to fumble with something; he must have dropped it, because he looked terribly annoyed as he slid off the chair to reach down for it.
Valeria hopped down from her seat and stood squinting at the screen as Husk fiddled with the table again, then conspicuously sat up as though nothing had happened. She opened the video log and isolated the scene on a playback screen, watching it again. In Husk’s palm was something the size of a bottle cap, but his hand was empty when he withdrew it from the underside of the table. Security was obviously monitoring the same feed she was from the control room.
She snipped the excerpt and transferred it to a thumb drive, opened her laptop, and popped the drive into one side. As it uploaded, she turned back to the wall of screens and opened a telecomm port, plugging in a cable and connecting it to her laptop. She hooked up her headphones and leaned back with a sandwich from her lunch sack to enjoy whatever was about to unfold. Gorzenko reappeared in the doorway of the study, announcing Von Doom. Despite standing a solid six feet tall himself, Husk still had to lean his head back to meet the gaze of the man who now towered over him as they stood toe to toe.
“Greetings,” Von Doom rumbled flatly as he passed Husk, ignoring his offer of a handshake. Husk raised an eyebrow and turned to Gorzenko, who was discreetly shaking his head at him, signaling for him to drop it. Valeria snorted. This was already going about as well as she had expected.
“I shall leave you to your discussion, then,” Gorzenko said. He bowed his head at Von Doom—but not at Husk—and slipped back out the door. Von Doom swept his cape aside and took a seat opposite Husk, folding his gloved hands upon the table. Husk sat down with practiced grace, appearing utterly confused, which Valeria knew was exactly the point.
One thing that no one seemed to understand about Uncle Victor was that he was not at all impressed with any of them, ever. He had entertained royal and diplomatic guests from nearly every nation, had met in bunkers with the world’s most dangerous warlords, and had forged alliances with whomever he saw fit for the benefit of his people. He remained undaunted by the criticisms of any other world power, a fact which had earned him the ire of several heads of state, namely in the Russian Federation and the United States.
Valeria had witnessed literal forces of nature that were less stubborn than her uncle, and less destructive when opposed.
When she had asked him why so many important people from around the world were suddenly so interested in befriending Latveria, he bluntly explained that most of them did not actually see Latverians as people, but merely as obstacles to their business objectives. “They wish to strip our land of all that is valuable and cause tremendous harm in the process.” He had explained to her the many ways that the larger, wealthier nations had historically bullied the rest of the world, taking their lands and resources—and often, their very lives—simply to enrich themselves.
Valeria guessed that Husk’s visit had to do with the widely-reported cache of lithium found within Latveria, and judging by his attitude on Tweetr, he probably assumed that he would be leaving that day with lucrative mining contracts in hand. Unfortunately, so had everyone else who had already been to the capitol seeking an audience for such negotiations. She watched as the two men regarded one another in a moment of silence broken only when Husk cleared his throat and gave him a smile that could have curdled milk.
“It is a great pleasure to finally meet you, face to face,” he said, his voice wavering ever so slightly at the end as he realized the irony of the colloquialism. Von Doom nodded but said nothing. Husk squared his shoulders and put on a cordial smile.
“I’m sure that you’ve seen the recent developments in the markets,” he said. “My team at Tekla Motors has made significant progress in automation, and we are expanding our operations into other regions, with ample opportunity for investment.”
Von Doom nodded. Husk looked at him expectantly for a long moment, and broke the silence again.
“Our vehicles are on the market in 31 countries now, and we are building up a driverless mass transit fleet which can be ready for deployment within the next 18 months—“
“We do not foresee a need for your experimental machines in Latveria,” Von Doom interjected. “Our existing infrastructure is more than sufficient, and it is far safer for our people. You may have noticed the superior quality of the autonomous shuttle which brought you from the tarmac to my door.”
Husk’s eyebrows beetled. Valeria giggled as he shifted in his seat before responding.
“Oh, uh … yes, I did notice that. And I have to say, your designs are quite impressive. I think that between the two of us, there is not a problem in the world that cannot be solved with the right kind of partnership.”
“Such as?” Von Doom asked.
Husk folded his hands to mirror him, and lowered his chin in a ghoulish grin that reminded Valeria of the hideous Grinch creature from the cartoons her parents showed her every Christmas back in New York.
“Let’s just say, there’s a substantial amount of money on the table for material exports,” he said. “I’m sure I don't have to spell it out. You’re sitting on massive deposits of natural resources, and the market is yours for the taking. I, myself, am prepared to make an offer.” He reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew an envelope, and laid it on the table between them. “I had this drawn up last week, so that you can see that I am serious. My mining operation, The Burrowing Company, could handle extraction at a third of the projected costs. I can close a deal right this minute, if you’d like.”
Valeria rolled her eyes and nibbled from her sandwich, watching Husk squirm as they once again sat in silence. Uncle Victor had a way of keeping others guessing, inscrutable from behind his mask—but she had grown up under him, and could read him like a clock. His head was tilted slightly, which he did when he was contemplative; his hands were graceful and precise as he examined the documents, like the motions of a surgeon. His tone was even more telling: far from his usual booming delivery, he spoke instead in patient, measured replies, as if tediously reciting an all too familiar story to which he already knew the ending. He was toying with Husk. She gave it another minute or so before he sent him out a nearby window.
“And?” Von Doom asked. Husk shifted in his seat, and Valeria snickered into her napkin.
“Well, there is even more opportunity for trade revenue, by way of tech licensing,” Husk added, desperate to keep him talking. “I have close ties to the Saudis, as well as the Pentagon and the Kremlin. It would be well within their military budgets to compensate you for your brilliant contributions to the overall security of the world, and I would be pleased to act as a facilitator toward that end. You could practically name your price—”
“And if I were to decline?” Von Doom interrupted, raising his chin.
Husk minced his jaw, forcing a polite smile. “I am certainly open to negotiation.”
“But I am not,” Von Doom said flatly, and folded his hands on the documents.
Husk took a deep breath and sat up in his chair. “The American presidential election is around the corner, and the fact is, that I will have a great deal of influence within the incoming administration,” he said.
“You speak of this as though it were a certainty,” Von Doom said.
Husk shook his head, leaning in conspiratorially. “I simply mean that it would be wise for us to have something on the table to mitigate any, you know, eventualities, given the situation along the Russian border. It’s delicate enough that I think even a single handshake could change its course.”
“We will have no dealings with Vladimir Pukhov,” Von Doom said firmly.
“There is no need, if you allow someone else to manage the details,” Husk said. “Those were your drones in Novorossiysk and Sevastopol, which damaged eleven ships from the Russian fleet, and your aerial drones that have been hitting fuel silos in Kursk. Pukhov has told me that he considers you to be an even greater nuisance than Zalanskyy, and I have some… concerns about relations.”
“He is free to withdraw his troops at any time,” Von Doom said with a faint chuckle.
“You should know that, at the present moment, I have over 4,000 satellites wrapped around this planet,” Husk said coldly. “Each of them is ready to coordinate with any number of items on the ground or in the air, as well as provide real-time location intel directly to me - and anyone I choose to share it with. Zalanskyy only turned to you after I prevented him from going too far with my equipment.”
“We have seen your equipment. We do not require it.”
Valeria snorted, leaning in closer to study Husk’s face as it contorted into another forced smile.
“I think that perhaps you aren't grasping the situation for what it has become.”
Von Doom drummed his fingers across the papers. “Do enlighten me.”
“All right.” Husk’s smile faded and he narrowed his eyes. “The bottom line is this: you are not the only one who is sought after for strategic alliances. Your enabling of Zalanskyy’s aggression will inevitably escalate again, with severe consequences for the region if it does. But I am prepared to invest in alternative arrangements - with conditions - as detailed in the offer.” He gestured to the paperwork on the table. “Starting with your immediate withdrawal of material support.”
“You would have me abandon our allies in the Ukraine, against a tyrant?” Von Doom asked.
Husk smiled coyly. “It would go a long way toward securing a future peace with the Federation, once the war has concluded to their satisfaction. And it would certainly endear you to the next American administration.”
Von Doom leaned back in his chair, arms folded. Valeria raised an eyebrow at the screen; once he’d crossed his arms, he was done with you.
“And if I were to refuse?”
Valeria could have sworn she’d seen Husk’s eye begin to twitch. “As I’ve said, the markets are wide open. But if you will not contribute willingly, well …” He shrugged. “They would see no reason not to simply take it by force.”
Von Doom stood up from his seat and leaned across the table onto his gloved hands, glaring down at him. Husk’s eyes widened and he shrank into the chair; his bodyguards stepped in closer, but were met with the sudden movement of at least half a dozen automated weapons mounted to the walls behind draperies and potted plants. Husk looked down and swiped his hands across his chest at the pair of red dots trained on him, and his bodyguards froze in place with their hands up, each marked with their own laser sights. Valeria clapped a hand over her mouth and squealed with delight as Uncle Victor pointed angrily into Husk’s face.
“You are a liar and a fraud,” he spat. “You have come to me with nothing but flimsy offers and empty threats on behalf of your masters.”
Security androids poured through the door and surrounded Husk and his bodyguards. As they were dragged off camera, Valeria turned back to her laptop and stopped the recording. She transferred the file to an anonymous cloud account, opened an email draft, and began typing.
S.H.I.E.L.D. Satellite Office
Washington, DC
Shortly thereafter.
Marjorie sipped her coffee and turned on her desktop printer, flinching at the sharp static shock it gave her. She got another jolt when she pulled out the paper tray. She started looking for anything that might be causing it when the distinct smell of ozone filled the air and her desktop screen crackled and went dark. The desk phone had no dial tone. Everything across her work station flickered, and a faint, ambient hum rose as the surfaces began to vibrate faintly.
She slowly rolled her chair back from the desk and looked around cautiously. The screens for the security feed were all static and the hum was growing louder. A ribbon of electricity sliced across the open space of the lobby, and then another, followed by a deep rumble and a blinding burst of light. She dove under the desk, opened the lock box, retrieved her sidearm, and leaned against the heavy filing cabinet for cover. She tracked the footsteps of something large and heavy as well as those of the agents dashing past her desk to meet it.
“You dare threaten Doom?” a booming voice demanded. “Stand down or perish!”
Agents shouted orders at the intruder, but were promptly sent skidding across the floor in front of her. Two agents retreated past her desk, radios loud as they called for backup. She was fairly confident that the lexan window and steel reinforcements beneath the outward facing walnut of her work station could withstand a barrage of bullets or shrapnel, but was in no hurry to find out.
Meanwhile, elsewhere in the building.
Nick Fury wasn't one for internet browsing on the clock, but some things were just too amusing to look away. He stood watching over the shoulder of a staffer showing him the real-time flight tracking of one particular billionaire nuisance.
“What exactly am I looking at here?” he asked.
“His G700 landed in Latveria, but was only there for about two hours,” the staffer said, pointing to a spot on the screen. “Right now it’s about to enter Sokovia, with what looks like an escort of five military aircraft.”
Fury snorted. It hadn't taken long for Von Doom to expel Husk from his borders, and he seemed content to make an example of him in front of the entire world. He expected to hear from Gorzenko any moment.
Maria Hill tapped on the doorway.
“Sir, we have a situation in the lobby.”
Fury pinched the bridge of his nose. “’Course we do. Everybody’s always bringing their bullshit to my door.” He tapped the staffer on the shoulder and nodded to the screen. “Keep an eye on that for me.”
“You got it, sir.”
He skipped the elevators and took the stairs, entering the lobby with a slow stride and his hands clearly visible.
“Good morning, Doctor. Welcome to Washington DC. To what do I owe the honor?”
Von Doom stood impossibly tall in regal Latverian attire beneath a dark green hooded cloak. He raised his arm, at the end of which dangled Leon Husk by the scruff of his jacket.
“I believe this is yours,” Von Doom said, releasing his grip on Husk and letting him drop to the floor.
Fury sighed. “He’s not one of ours, he just likes to cosplay.”
“I would have a word with you, nonetheless,” Von Doom said, folding his arms expectantly. At their feet, Husk rolled onto all fours, wobbly and disoriented, presumably from having just been dragged halfway across the planet in a matter of seconds via teleportation. He looked up at Fury and groaned before retching within inches of his shoes. Fury stepped back and cringed down at him.
“Right this way, Doctor,” he said gesturing to the corridor that led to a row of conference rooms. He turned to the nearest agents and pointed down at Husk. “Detain him. And somebody get a janitor out here.”
He glanced into Marjorie’s cubicle to see her getting back into her chair from the floor, swiping her hair out of her face with an irritated look.
Later, in a windowless room on the premises.
Husk rubbed his temples and nursed a paper cup of water, his head still mildly spinning. At least his stomach had finally begun to settle. The preceding hour was a bit of a blur - the last thing he remembered was sitting in the study of Castle Doom on the losing side of an argument, and the next thing he knew he was being pulled from the chair by his collar like an ill-tempered feline. He'd screamed his way through some sort of portal travel, then found himself on the cold tiles of the S.H.I.E.L.D. office lobby.
The agents posted outside the door had ignored his pounding, so he had given up and sat down among the sparse furnishings, helping himself to a drink from the water cooler.
The door opened and Fury stepped inside, fixing him with a bemused grin.
Husk sat up in his seat and cleared his throat. “I believe I am entitled to a phone call,” he said, his voice nowhere near as commanding as he’d intended.
“Oh, you’re entitled all right,” Fury chuckled, tossing two small plastic evidence bags onto the table between them as he sat down. “You have any idea how many international laws you just broke today?”
Husk bristled. “I want my cell phone.”
“Your phone is on your jet, which is currently parked in Sokovia International Airport along with your boys.” Fury folded his hands on the table, nodding at the two bags. “Same as the one you left here last year. I want to know where you’ve been getting these transmitters. And I want to know why you think you should be sneaking them into other people’s spaces.”
Husk’s face fell. Not only had his bug from the study been located, apparently so had the one he’d applied to the control panel of the shuttle.
“I would like to speak to a lawyer.”
Fury smirked, shaking his head. “Does anyone even know where you are at the present moment? Because technically, I don't have to hand your ass over to anybody until my work is done.”
Husk blinked at him.
Fury nodded. “Listen. I’m sorry you’re so bored of being famous that you took up amateur espionage, and far be it from me to piss all over your dream of LARPing as a five-dollar Bond villain. But out here in the real world, that shit has consequences. Victor would have been well within his rights to throw you into the deepest, nastiest dungeon he has while politicians spend months kissing his ass to get him to turn you loose.”
Husk swallowed. Fury nodded in agreement and leaned forward onto the table.
“You threatened the sovereign ruler of a NATO ally - while also trying to coerce him into a business proposition - using military directives you had zero authority to invoke. I’m betting you didn't even research anything about him before pulling this stunt, either. So let me make it perfectly clear: if you fuck around in this man’s backyard, you will not like what you find out.”
Husk shifted in his seat. “What, uh … do you need from me, in order to make this go away?”
Fury leaned back in his chair, folding his arms.
“I have no idea yet whose custody I’m even supposed to transfer you to next. Probably the Feds, maybe INTERPOL. But since you’re already here enjoying the amenities, I think you’d probably rather just deal with me.” He slid the evidence bags across the table between them.
“You will tell me everything - every name and detail that you have. I will see about keeping this quiet. If you lie to me, or pull any more of your shit, I will personally fly you back out to Latveria and you can try your luck with Doom.”